Lessons Learned
by vanillavinegar
Summary: Ed's family has taught him many things over the years.  Oneshot.


**Title: **Lessons Learned  
><strong>Author: <strong>vanillavinegar**  
>Rating: <strong>K+  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Ed's family has taught him many things over the years.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Fullmetal Alchemist _and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Hiromu Arakawa-san. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Posting this in honor of FMA day, as you've probably already guessed. Title comes from the Carrie Underwood song of the same name. This fic also references the 'Elric family' omake included in volume 14 of the manga.

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><p>Ed didn't remember when Al was born. Well, he was barely more than an infant himself – one year and two months and newly able to walk on his own.<p>

What Ed remembered was this: his father explaining that his mother still loved him, even though she spent a lot more time with Al, who was loud and kinda smelly and too small to do anything Ed wanted him to.

_(Later, he refuses to think about this moment, one of the last lessons Hohenheim would ever teach him. He hadn't known it at the time, but in five months, one week, and three days, his father will be silhouetted in the morning sun streaming through their door, leaving them for good.)_

The first few times Al buried his face in Ed's side during a thunderstorm, Ed had pushed him away, telling him firmly that being afraid of rain was for infants and Ed was no infant.

The fourth time Al did it, he was crying. "Brudda, scawy! Scawy!" Ed bit his lip and hardened his resolve, reaching out to push Al away again. But then Al looked up at him, distress shining in those big eyes, and Ed softened, changing his push into a pat. Al immediately lit up with gratitude, and Ed thought: _Maybe this older brother thing isn't too bad._

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><p>It was five months and one week after the bucket lesson (<em>three days before his father leaves and doesn't look back<em>) that Hohenheim taught Ed one more (_one last_) thing.

(_Ed doesn't ever think about it anymore. He doesn't even realize how much he's taken this lesson to heart._)

What Ed remembered was this: Daddy let him go into his office, his special room that he never got to explore. Daddy didn't let him explore this time, either, keeping Ed on his lap while he sat at the big desk, but that was all right. Daddy had a lot of books Ed would like to read, but right then Daddy was combing through Ed's hair with his fingers and Ed was looking around at all of Daddy's papers and the big picture on the wall and this was fun. He wished he and Daddy could do this a lot, like maybe every day.

"Edward," Daddy said, in his deep voice.

Ed craned his neck to look up at him. Momma only called him 'Edward' when she was mad, but Daddy always called him that. He wasn't sure why.

"Edward, do you know what it means to be an adult?"

Ed blinked, scrunched up his face thoughtfully, and finally nodded. "Yes! It's when you have stuff to do all the time and you fix food and maybe have a job, like Winry's mom and dad, and you have to go somewhere else and can't stay at home all the time and play. And you're tall," he added with relish.

Daddy's lips twitched. He ducked his head to laugh, chuckles rumbling through Ed's chest. Ed grinned, not sure what had amused Daddy but pleased that he had done it. "Yes, those are some things that adults do," Daddy said when he picked his head back up. There were crinkles in the corners of his eyes and he looked happier than he had a couple of minutes before. "But that's not exactly what it means to be an adult."

Ed's face fell. "Oh."

"Being an adult means you're responsible, Edward." He patted Ed's head and Ed felt better about being wrong.

"I'm 'sponsible! I take care of Al," Ed boasted.

"You do, and that's very adult of you."

Ed puffed up with pride.

"But when you're an adult, you're responsible for everything you do and say. If you make a mistake, you have to fix it yourself, because no one does it for you. If you say you will do something, then you do it. Adults, Edward, always keep their word. Do you understand?" For a moment, the light caught on Daddy's glasses (_his eyes are hidden and the sun is bright behind him as he walks out of the door_) and he looked very serious. Ed was almost scared before he remembered that it was just Daddy, and he couldn't be scared of Daddy.

"I understand," he said, not quite a lie but not quite the truth either.

"Good." Daddy picked Edward off his lap and set him on the floor. "Now go tell your mother I said you could have a cookie. I've something to finish before dinner."

Ed hesitated. Cookies were really good but he never got to look at Daddy's office. "Can't I stay with you?"

Daddy stared down at him. "Won't you be bored?"

"No," Ed answered truthfully.

"I suppose so. Just for a little while." Daddy smoothed Ed's hair, mouth turning down. Ed wished he knew how to make him smile again.

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><p>Ed didn't remember the first time his parents had told him to take care of Al. It seemed like something he had always done naturally, and someone having to tell him to do so would have been the same as someone telling him to breathe or eat.<p>

What Ed remembered was this: the first time he ever felt overwhelmed because he was older was after his mother died. When his mother was still alive, though very sick _(she had died that very next week, but Ed doesn't think about that),_ he had gone in to see her as she sat up in bed, looking out the window.

_(He wonders if she was still looking for his father.)_

"Al's taking a nap," he informed her, crawling onto the chair next to her bed and placing the book on his lip. Mom liked it when he read to her.

She smiled, and he basked in its warmth. "Thank you, Ed," she said softly, reaching out with one thin hand to stroke his cheek. "My big boy." He glowed with pleasure, even as she let her hand fall with a sigh. "Will you do me a favor, Ed?"

"Of course!" he said at once. _Anything for Mom._

She bit her lip _(one of the traits he inherited from her)_. "I might have to go away soon," she said slowly. "Will you look after your brother for me?"

"I always look after Al," Ed said proudly.

"I know." She smiled again, sadly this time.

"When will you come back?"

The innocent question made her blink. _(Later he realizes she was forcing back tears, though he hadn't noticed at the time.)_ "Oh, darling. I don't know."

"Can Al and me come too?"

"Not yet, sweetie." She touched his face again. Her hand was cold and trembled against his skin, but her smile stayed strong, even as he looked at her in obvious confusion. "I'll need you to be strong, Ed. Al's still just a baby, but you're—" She broke off to cough into her hand violently.

Ed stretched as far as he could to reach her bedside table, seizing the glass there with both hands and offering it to her when she stilled. "I'm a big boy, Mom," he told her determinedly. "I can take care of you and Al, too."

"I know you can." She sipped the water, hiding her eyes. "Be strong for your brother, and for me, all right?"

At her funeral, Ed had cried as loud as Al, but after everyone had left, as they sat alone in their big, empty house, all he could think was:

_I'll need you to be strong._

So Ed wiped his face, set his jaw _(one of the traits he inherited from his father)_, and made dinner for his brother. And when Al asked where his was, Ed said the first lie he'd ever told his brother when he replied that he'd already had some.

_Be strong for your brother._

He could feel the pressure weighing down on him, and it made him feel sick. He wasn't in the least bit hungry.

_And for me._

But he had to take care of Al, because he'd promised.

_Adults, Edward, always keep their word._

THE END


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